


To be clean, or not to be

by justAleks



Series: Old Bakugan fics written in Polish but finally translated [2]
Category: Bakugan Battle Brawlers
Genre: Gen, Gus wields the barincell in this relationship, Kinda, Slice of Life, Spectra would be lost without him, it will make more sense when you read the fic I promise, or at least stinky, takes place when the two idiots got stuck on earth, that sounded wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justAleks/pseuds/justAleks
Summary: An addition to an episode/slight crackInspired by the scene in the hangar where Spectra and Gus hid after landing on Earth.A hangar, like a hangar, is an empty building and not necessarily clean, so after spending the nights in it you will not end up smelling of roses. Spectra doesn't like it, especially since he has plans to confront the Bakugan Brawlers Resistance. Gus to the rescue.
Relationships: Gus Grav & Spectra Phantom | Keith Fermin
Series: Old Bakugan fics written in Polish but finally translated [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999174
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	To be clean, or not to be

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Być czystym albo nie być, oto jest pytanie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403210) by [justAleks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justAleks/pseuds/justAleks). 



> this time I'm sure I have posted it here in Polish only and then deleted... now it's here in a translated form as well

The rain pounding on the metal roof of the hangar effectively filled the surprisingly tense silence. From the moment Spectra opened his eyes, a feeling that something was definitely  _ wrong  _ had clung to the fringes of his consciousness with its claws and gnawed at it from time to time. Thoroughly shaking out his cloak, that currently worked double as a blanket, to try and get rid of any unexpected companions, that might have crawled into it seeking warmth during the night, did not help. A quick walk around the hangar in order to get rid of the extra, furry tenants did not help either. The feeling never ceased its persistent nibbling at Phantom's subconscious, but despite being as insistent as a fly, it offered no details.

Gus, who had clearly decided that today was the day to become his leader's shadow, instead of the usual mother-hen with an alarmingly strong maternal instinct, kept his eyes on Spectra. At the same time, he was sticking to his peripheral vision. He didn’t come too close or wander away. In strangely tense silence, he lurked in the corners. It did not help to calm The Feeling.

Aside from the morning visit to the shop (Phantom was increasingly torn between curiosity and the blissful ignorance of where Grave was getting his money from) and serving breakfast, Gus kept his distance and almost blended in with his surroundings. Spectra might have been able to forget that the boy temporarily shared his living space with him if it weren't for the burning gaze that Gus used to drill holes in the back of the Phantom's head from time to time.

When Spectra felt shivers galloping down his spine for the whatever time that day, he snapped. With a hellfire in his eyes, he whipped towards Gus staring him down. The cloak flapped ominously. “ _ What? _ ”

Gus jumped back in surprise, tripped, and crouched to regain balance. He was already opening his mouth to answer, but he clearly hesitated at the last moment. Spectra crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his back, towering over a startled Grav. 

Phantom was used to that exact pose making even Hydron stutter, but this time Gus, as if turned into a stone statue, only sat with his head tilted up and his mouth ajar. Spectra narrowed his eyes. He was going to maintain eye contact until he could get a reply from Gus. The mask additionally made the contact unpleasant fairly quickly.

“You stink”  _ What _ !? “I mean, we both start to stink, Master,” Gus immediately realized by how much he had crossed the line and tried to backpedal. Spectra stopped looming over him, and stood sideways to the boy for a change, he cringed. 

Gus was right, since they arrived on earth, apart from quickly washing their face in a nearby public restroom, they had no opportunity in any way to take more care of personal hygiene. He combed through his greasy, barely holding up hair with disgust. He couldn't confront the Resistance in such a state. How would that prove his competence? The strongest player in Pyrus who looks like a flea-ridden tramp. His lips twisted with disgust.

“And I take it that you've figured out how to fix it.” Gus grimaced. Spectra fixed his eyes on him again.

“On the way to the store, I asked people where one could somehow refresh. Most of them replied that it was best to go to a homeless shelter-”

“Over my dead body!” Spectra has not yet fallen low enough to even think about mingling with the earthly dregs of society. He felt his blood boil at the very thought that he would have to put his foot in such a place and  _ use  _ it!

"Of course, I ruled out that option immediately," Gus talked over Spectra’s outburst. "I asked, where I could at least refresh my clothes, in which case there is a laundry two streets away, we can easily wash our coats there, Master.” Gus waited for some comment while Spectra listened to the rain constantly pounding on the hangar roof. 

The choice between a poorhouse and a regular laundry was not even a question, but the lack of a real bath made Phantom feel uncomfortable. Gus sat down on the floor to make himself more comfortable and reminded Spectra of a faithful dog. The blonde involuntarily imagined Gus as a furry dog, wagging its tail and waiting for him to decide whether to throw the ball to be caught or not.

“In that case, as soon as the rain stops, you will go to that laundry and arrange everything.” Catch, Gus. The boy jumped up from the ground with a loud "yes sir!" Phantom stared at Grav's back for a moment, as he began collecting juice boxes and wraps left from buns that made up for their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Spectra never thought that you could miss warm dishes so quickly.

He looked around the old hangar. Apart from them, countless spiders and other insects lived in it, but Spectra was glad deep down that they had not come across any bums or other derailed people who might have taken over the building. He didn't need any witnesses to his plan spectacularly biting their ass.

When the rain had finally stopped pouring down from the sky as if it aspired to become a waterfall, was a moment of consternation intermixed with a healthy dose of irritation stretched over the hangar.

“Master should probably come with me,” Gus stood in front of Spectra, holding his cloak in his hands and glancing between him and the clothing still on covering Spectra. Phantom's jaw clenched as he started mentally berating himself, that something yet again slipped his mind. Of course, his clothes were starting to smell too.

“The laundry room will definitely be warmer than the hangar,” Gus suggested, avoiding unnecessary eye contact. Spectra felt like hitting something or someone, running naked in an empty building was one thing, not very pleasant, but acceptable, he could probably make himself a bunker from the boxes crowding the hangar and hide in there while waiting for Gus to return. Running even in boxers in a building full of other people was out of the equation. Spectra didn't care whether they knew him or not. Such humiliation was unbearable in both cases. He clenched his fists. Moment of humiliation or catching the flu and hacking out his lungs for the foreseeable future? This time the choice was not so obvious.

“Let's go,” he growled, yanking the cloak out from Gus' hands. The less he thinks about the coming humiliation, the easier it will be for him to get into the laundry room.

The march through the city only further irritated Spectra. He was used to many intrusive or stealthy glances, being a top brawler came with vestal’s curiosity. However, the looks thrown at him by earthlings, instead of being filled with admiration and adoration, were full of surprise or even  _ mockery _ . Spectra scoffed inwardly. 

The laundry turned out to be self-service. Spectra looked at Gus, who thrust his chest forward and, determined, moved towards the washing machine tucked into the furthest corner of the building. Fortunately, each washing machine came with a manual. Spectra let Gus figure out all the hows and whats by keeping to the sidelines himself and looking around the room every now and then. 

Generally, no one paid any attention to them. A bored woman was reading a magazine while sitting on one of the chairs, a young boy was playing on a mobile phone. Basically, everyone was taking care of themselves. Yet, it was still too crowded for his tastes, Spectra wished no one was in the laundry but, as it was, decided to appreciate their ignorance. Everything was better than mockery and those who looked down their noses on him. 

“Okay, master, first give me your coat, there are also dryers, so only when the coats are washed and dry, we will start on our clothes.” Spectra sighed, being able to sit in a coat alone was much more palatable. Without complaining, he slipped his coat off his shoulders and handed it to Gus. His mind got stuck on another thing when his eyes landed on Gus’ back.

Spectra frowned as the boy tossed coins into the washing machine. It was much easier to ignore the coins rattling in his subordinate's pockets when he only heard them. Curiosity nibbled at his mind. “Where do you have money from?”

Gus smiled under his nose but kept himself busy with the machine for a moment longer. Spectra stared at him harder, not liking the silence.

“Let's say, Master, that everyone must have secrets sometimes.” Disclosed Gus clearly telegraphing that he did not want to share his ways. Instead of being discouraged, that tone only aroused Phantom's curiosity even more. He ignored a stab of worry that came along with it. 

“ _ Gus _ .” Grave ignored his master and stared at the washing machine trying to guess what program would be best for their coats. Gus' stubbornness began to worry Spectra, he became afraid that the young man was starting to do something questionable. In two long steps, he approached the boy and grabbed his arm, digging his fingers into it. Gus grimaced at the pressure.

“Where do you get the money from?” Spectra ground out. He could already see Gus surrounded by a gang of drug addicts, acting as an intermediary, the image of Grava kneeling on the pavement begging for money quickly jumped into the place of the dealer one. Spectra tighten his grip.

“It’s okay, Master Spectra!” Gus held up his hands. “People pay willingly to see various tricks. They don't even realize it's just a gauntlet hologram.” He rushed, his cheeks coloring red. Spectra released Gus’s biceps and took a step back, blinking.

“You're making a traveling circus out of yourself?” There was some sort of a joke here, Spectra just didn’t want to acknowledge it. The situation took a surreal turn very quickly. Gus dusted his sleeve off. 

“Yeah, something like that, I think,” he admitted, embarrassed. Spectra clapped him on the shoulder and started toward the benches. Gus breathed a sigh of relief and finally chose the right program.

“They should be clean and dry in an hour or so.” Gus sat down next to his master.

Spectra began tapping out a random rhythm on his thigh with his fingers, it looked as though they were going to spend a long time in the laundry. The room offered nothing of interest other than a few magazines piled up in messy heaps on each of the several tables scattered around. He saw a plastic cup left on one of the tables, bearing a logo of, if he remembered correctly, a coffee shop. He looked at Grav playing with the cuff of his shirt. 

“How much money do you have, Gus?”

“Just enough to pay for the laundry and maybe get some dinner for tonight.” Spectra grimaced. So much for finding a cafe. He shifted his position in the uncomfortable chair. So did Gus. People were moving around the room, some were entering, others were leaving. Few were left waiting for their clothes to wash. Spectra reached for one of the magazines. He didn't care about the dilemmas of unknown stars, but anything was better than awkward silence. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, a voice still belonging to Keith Fermin told him that now was the perfect time to get to know Gus better. Spectra ignored him.

The Subtery player fidgeted in his chair, Spectra, out of the corner of his eye, saw the boy open and close his mouth, visibly wanting to start a conversation. Not once did he make a sound. He, once again, shushed the old habits of giving in and starting one himself.

Phantom managed to go through three magazines, before Gus handed him a warm and fragrant coat.

“And now, the rest of our clothes,” muttered Gus while Spectra smoothed his thumbs over the warm material. They both felt their cheeks warm up as they took in the scattered humans mingling about the laundry. Spectra looked around looking for some empty room or toilet. Grav caught on quickly and started looking around the laundry as well. They found a toilet right on the other side of the building.

By the time Spectra had finally put on his coat, all its warmth became just a memory. He handed Gus the folded clothes and returned to his seat. Despite the cover, he felt very, very naked. Gus, red-faced, sat down in the chair next to him.

A sudden realization knocked at Phantom’s mind and Spectra stifled a groan. He looked at Gus just in time to see the boy realized the same thing. Gus groaned out loud.

“You know, Master. Before I turned on the laundry, I could have gone and buy something to eat.” Grav stared at his watch showing twenty past two. Spectra could feel hunger remind it’s there and was happy that his stomach didn’t stop growling. ‘You can go now’ the words pushed at Spectra’s teeth but he pushed them back. Even he wasn't that much of a bastard to send Gus nearly naked to the store. Besides, he thought that even here, on Earth, the police may not take nicely to a boy parading only in a coat, and the prospect of bailing Gus out of jail, as ridiculous as it sounded, was not something he had the desire nor strength to do. Spectra just nodded, grabbing the next magazine. He was beginning to recognize some stars.

Some lanky boy staggered into the chair next to the Spectra, nudging him unceremoniously with his knee when he plonked down into the plastic. It looked like he had just crawled out of some hole. His hair stuck out in all directions, his face was pale and his eyes bore inhumanly dark circles underneath. He looked like a failed cross between a scarecrow, a vampire, and a zombie. Gus’ head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at the newcomer.

“You should apologize!” As always, Gus swelled with righteous anger and jumped first to defend his master. The boy blinked, tried to focus his cloudy gaze on his neighbor, and waved his hand as if he didn't even have the strength to lift it correctly.

“’M s’rry,” he mumbled, then leaned his head back against the chair. Spectra stared at him like he was an exotic animal. When the strange boy didn't move again, Phantom went back to catching up on unknown celebrity life.

Five minutes later he felt a nudge on his knee, ignoring the first, second, and third ones, the boy picked up a pace. Nudge, stomp, nudge, stomp, nudge, stomp.

“Do you have a problem?” Spectra snapped. His outburst woke Gus from his nap. The ruffled boy smiled lazily at Phantom. The blonde narrowed his eyes at the pesky earthling.

“Are you from a band?” He asked, straightening up in the chair from which he had almost dripped down onto the dirty floor. “I play bass in Hell's Angels, and recently we were looking for a support to play as an opening act. Are you interested?” Spectra blinked. Gus peeked out from behind him looking surprised at the boy.

“ _ No _ . We are not a  _ band _ .” Spat Spectra. The bassist wilted. One of the dryers chimed loudly, signaling the end of its work. The boy got up, stretched, and smiled at the two vestals. 

“It's a pity, but if you want, you can come to our show anyway. Next week in Aurora. Entry as much as beer.” The boy waved them goodbye and walked towards his dryer.

Spectra clenched his hands into fists. No one. Literally, nobody took them seriously here. He was sick and tired of the planet. He worked his ass off to become a top brawler and still managed to end up in a place that looked down on him. Their washing machine chimed moments later, interrupting Spectra's fantasies of conquering Earth and showing the ignorant locals that he deserved respect.

“Master, when our clothes are dry, we will go to a store and buy dinner. Ok?” Gus sensed something was nagging Spectra but didn't quite know what. Phantom nodded and returned to the magazine he was crimpling. He looked at Gus with the corner of his eye, the boy appeared deep in thought, no longer trying to start a conversation but he didn’t seem bothered by another bout of silence that stretched between them. Spectra wondered if it was too late to indulge the previous halted attempts but decided against it. He let the irritation at the situation simmer in his gut instead. 

For the next few minutes, Gus glanced at his master from time to time, trying to guess why his mood suddenly took a complete nosedive. When Spectra realized that for the last twenty minutes, instead of reading, he had been crushing the magazine in his hands he pushed it to the bottom of the pile and reached for another as if nothing had happened. This time, he focused on the text and not on the recent streak of unfortunate events. Gus settled down when Spectra finally relaxed. When the dryer chimed at them that it was done, Spectra’s mood somewhat lifted. Gus’ calm but solid presence to his right worked wonders on his temper. 

“You know, Master. If, by some twist of fate, we were stuck on this planet for a bit longer, maybe we could see the concert? As a child, I even wanted to join a band,” Gus asked as they emerged from the bathroom fragrant and somewhat cleaner.

“No, don't even think about it, Gus," Spectra was not going to end up in a closed room full of drunk people. He ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced at the feel. Gus noticed the twist of his lips and let go of the previous topic. Phantom had a feeling that it was not the end of it, though.

“They say they have something like dry shampoo in some shops. Just sprinkle it on your head, massage it in and comb out and your hair is less greasy. When I collect more money, I will buy one for us.” Gus combed his curls as well and wrinkled his nose in matching disgust. Spectra noted that not being alone in his misery made it more bearable.

“I hope it will work” Spectra followed Gus who started towards the nearest grocery, hoping against hope they would buy something other than cheap buns and boxed juice. 

Oh, how he was looking forward to returning to New Vestroia. 


End file.
